Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
I move in on Ava and plaster myself to her back, greeting her, feeling her. “I’m going to dirty you up,” I declare, lowering and taking her dress at the knees, lifting it a smidge so she can stoop with me, and when I start circling my hips into her arse, she’s right there with me, laughing, comfortable, and happy.
Just us, the music, our moves, how easily my body moves with hers, and how effortlessly she follows. How perfectly she fits against me. Simply . . . dancing. “Oh God, I love you.” I drown her face with kisses, noting the track coming to an end, so I send her out on a twirl before pulling her close again, gently swaying us. “More dancing?”
“Drink,” she says.
“You can’t keep up with your god, sweet temptress.” I keep us exactly where we are, hardly moving, just touching, while the rest of the floor go wild for Stevie Wonder. “Are you happy?” I ask, wondering where that question came from. Unease? Worry after taking her upstairs? She’s happy now, dancing, being relatively normal, being swooned all over, and I take immense comfort from the fact that I, Jesse Ward, Lord of the Sex Manor, can give her that. I can give her anything.
“Deliriously,” she says, hauling me into her.
“Then my work here is done.”
She lets me snuggle for a while in her neck, holding me like I need to be held, and I feel comforted by that. Her holding me. “Your temptress is dying of thirst.”
“God forbid,” I whisper, tearing us apart. And isn’t that apt? Because nothing could tear us apart. Only me. “Come on, I don’t want to be accused of neglecting you.” I put her in front of me and guide her off the floor, making it only two paces before I feel someone’s hands on my shoulders. I tense. Oh no. No. Don’t do it.
I’m hauled back onto the floor, with what feels like dozens of hands on my body, all dirty hands, all not meant to be there. “For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, trying to see who’s ambushed me. “Get the hell off me.” I wriggle and writhe, my ears bleeding, caused by the sounds of their delighted cackles. One’s Trisha. One’s Mandy. I look to my left, spying Marina too. Jesus Christ, she’s barely over her orgasm and searching for her next. “Get o—” I still when I see Ava coming toward us. “Oh fuck,” I breathe, feeling the hands still grappling at me. She looks livid. Disgusted. I expect her to lash out. She doesn’t. I don’t know if it’s a message or something, a lesson perhaps, one Ava wants me to take note of, but she simply offers her hand, looking at me to take, which I do. Of course I do. And she gently pulls me toward her.
Mine.
She leads me away, confident, owning it. Owning me. And it’s sexy as fucking hell. I swoop in and sweep her off her feet, ravishing her. “I love it when you’re all possessive.” I’m ignoring the fact that she did that without any bloodshed. It was definitely a message to me. “Kiss me.” She shakes her head, rolls her eyes, but she indulges my demand and lets me indulge her mouth as I walk blindly back to the bar with her in my arms.
“There.” I sit her down and give Mario a look, the look, as he wanders over, smiling, getting two bottles of water and passing them over with a ready prepared glass of his specialty. Minus the alcohol.
“Mario, how’s the stock?” I ask, taking a seat and watching in astonishment as Ava downs the water ravenously before I check the shelves and fridges.
“Ah, Mr. Ward, you have thirsty members this evening. I’ll do stocktake tomorrow. We have a delivery arriving on Sunday.”
“Good man.” I return my attention to Ava and the glimmering diamond around her neck. She looks tired, has lost some of her sparkle. It’s been a tumultuous day. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she says over a yawn as I tweak the diamond.
“I’m taking you home. It’s been a long day.” Of which we could have saved a few hours looking for a Scotch that was at The Manor the whole fucking time. I jolt when the unmistakable hand of the big man meets me shoulder.
“You good, girl?” he asks, as Ava yawns again, nodding. She’s hit a brick wall. God, I cannot wait to spend the rest of the weekend without any interruptions. In bed. The bath. The kitchen. Eating, kissing, cuddling, vegging.
“I’m taking her home,” I tell John. “Everything okay upstairs?”
“S’all good. I’ll call for your car.” Going to his phone, John looks at me, nodding, peeking over the top of his glasses. Talking to me without talking to me. And I hear him, loud and clear. Do this right. Fine. Tomorrow, I’ll push to meet her parents.